


Playing With Fire...

by AllHallowsEve



Series: Wincest Colored Glasses [30]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean being brilliant, Dean being manipulative, Demon Deals, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s02e08 Crossroad Blues, Guilt, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Slash, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 20:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15915729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllHallowsEve/pseuds/AllHallowsEve
Summary: Dean tries to find out the truth about Sam's feelings.  They take on a case that hits way too close to home.  Hearts are broken.  Demons and hellhounds are the least of their problems.Season 2 Episode 8 as seen through Wincest Colored Glasses.





	Playing With Fire...

**Author's Note:**

> This one canonically is a doozy. My own additions don't really make it any easier. Buckle up, you are in for an emotional roller coaster, but honestly, that is why we are all here right?
> 
> As always this is unbeta'd. So please be sure to point out any mistakes or difficult passageways.

Dean was feeling nervous, not bad nervous, good, excited nervous.  He woke up that morning with a plan, well, a part of a plan, a vague idea of one anyway.  He wanted to push Sam a little, see what might shake out as to any indication that he was right.  Something he could hold on to, to build from in his quest to find the truth about whether or not Sam was harboring the same secret taboo feelings about Dean as he was about Sam.  So he had positioned himself in his side of the boxy diner seat with his left arm thrown over the back of the booth in what he hoped was a nonchalant kind of way.

He kept trying to make funny engaging comments but Sam seemed to be having an emotional thunder storm in his head, if his wrinkled brows were any indication.  And he hadn’t eaten anything either.  Sure Sam normally ate like a baby bird and rabbit combined.  Dean didn’t understand how the giant had grown so superhumanly tall and strong by eating primarily veggies but that was his baby brother thru and thru.   But Sam usually did eat something, a salad or soup at least, but not today.

Sam’s stomach was tied in knots so badly that he couldn’t eat.  He had been scouring all the back door ways he could get into law enforcement information since they got to the diner and everything he found was bad, so very bad. 

He informed Dean that he had the warrant in St. Louis that they already knew about, but now Dean was also officially in the Fed’s database.  Dean had been in an amazingly good mood all morning and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his fries as Sam’s mood just continued to darken.  Sam couldn’t believe his brother was completely unfazed by everything he had just told him.

Dean even smugly grinned as he said, “Dude, I’m like Dillinger or something.”

His smile was so self congratulating that it crinkled his eyes as he took a big swig of his soda. 

Dean’s happiness was usually contagious but Sam couldn’t stomach the idea of his brother behind bars again.  He felt like he had swallowed a bunch of gravel as his stomach churned in worry.  He told his aggravatingly handsome brother that it wasn’t funny, and that it would in fact make their jobs a lot harder because they would have to be more careful.

Dean asked what the cops had on Sam, and waited patiently to hear as Sam clicked through the searches for his own name.  He said in a somewhat disappointed way, “I’m sure they just haven’t posted it yet.” 

Dean was probably the only person alive that would be able to make Sam feel embarrassed about not having a warrant out for his own arrest.   Dean actually went so far as to accuse Sam of being jealous of his record. 

Sam failed miserably at dissuading his brother’s idea with his grumpy defensive, “No, I’m not.”

Dean’s teasing and laughter at Sam’s expense did very little to lighten Sam’s fear of seeing Dean in jail.

But when Dean asked, “What have you got on the case?” and then dropped his voice to a lower darker tone continuing, “You innocent, harmless young man, you?”  

Sam’s stomach flip flopped for all different reasons.  Dean simply stared at him, holding eye contact until Sam nervously looked down and sought out the case file info he had printed earlier.

Dean knew he was skating on thin ice, especially if he had been reading his brother wrong and misinterpreting the signs and that maybe Sam might not want him.  But he was feeling reckless.  The giddy happiness at the mere thought that maybe Sam had dark desires for Dean the same way Dean had had them for him for years made him feel almost high.  So he just couldn’t resist teasing Sam and putting a little come-hither stare into his eyes while eating his fries, and he threw his best frisky charisma into the tone of the last statement.

Sam was happy to switch his focus to the case at hand and away from his sexy brother.  In spite of Sam’s mantra to himself that he could never have Dean, so he should just stop wanting him, his libido seemed to be responding even more to his devastatingly handsome brother today.

He gladly began verbalizing all the details of the case that he had gathered, about a supposed black dog.  They had never actually worked a black dog case and Sam had eagerly hit the lore earlier that morning.  The guy was an architect and had died under mysterious circumstances in a building he had designed.

Sam tried to keep a straight face and not show any signs of where his mind went when Dean’s only statement about the image of the black dog in the lore Sam had handed over was, “Yeah, bet they could hump the crap out of your leg.”

Sam gave Dean his best _this is serious_ look, which caused his brother’s charming smile to fall.  He hated disappointing Dean when his brother was in such an obviously good mood, but Sam was freaked out.  Seeing Dean’s mug-shot on a national federal database had him shaken.  So he was having more trouble than usual handling Dean’s happiness.

Dean was super excited, almost bouncing on his toes with excessive energy when Sam decided their covers should be writers for Architectural Digest.  It meant Sam would be wearing his best suit, which Dean thought he looked amazing in.  Instead of hiding how much he loved eyeing Sam in said suit, Dean just relaxed and allowed himself to take it all in, all 6’4” of him, and the broad shoulders that went with it.

He got so caught up in it that Sam had to call his name twice before he realized his brother was waiting impatiently at the motel door for Dean to collect himself.  He gave a sly smile and just said, “Looking good there Sammy.”

Sam swallowed hard fighting the urge to smile.  Trying to not allow himself to blush from the compliment.  He wasn’t sure what was up with Dean, but his brother’s teasing was making it hard for him to not reveal just how badly it affected his body.  He just huffed and gave Dean a pissy look that could mean a million different things and turned his back and walked out the door.

They went and interviewed the dead guy’s partner but he didn’t give much help other than telling them the dead guy’s rags to riches, turning into a savant designer overnight, background.  The boys were ready to wrap up the interview, but the guy stopped them and asked that maybe instead of just dedicating the article to his partner, they could also come to his firm and interview his staff.  He said that the one thing his partner and he agreed on was to make their firm the most inclusive place to work possible and they were very proud of the fact that they had a progressive team on staff.  He suggested that maybe they, and he looked pointedly from Dean to Sam and back again, might want to highlight the fact that their company was known for being the most inclusive architectural firm in the area, trying to be as diverse in their hiring practices as possible and insisting they were well known for not discriminating against race, creed or sexual orientation in their projects.  He said the last very pointedly yet again looking from Dean to Sam and back again in an even more obvious manner.

Sam cleared his throat, and assured the man they would discuss the possibility with their editor and get back to him, before moving quickly towards the exit.

Dean was chuckling as he closed the door behind him and began loosening his tie.  Sam turned a confused eye to his brother who just smiled his most charming grin and said, “You’re so pretty Sammy, everyone wants a piece of you.”

Sam’s dick got so hard he had trouble taking his next step.  His nerves snapped.  On his best day he had trouble hiding his desires for Dean, but today, was not his best day. He was stressed out about the potential of Dean being arrested at every turn and now Dean was teasing him too hard.  He normally enjoyed when Dean would aim his charm in Sam’s direction.  Even though it hurt like hell that he could never be with Dean, he loved the attention anytime it was turned away from the chick of the week and onto Sam.  It gave Sam fodder for his fantasies that maybe Dean could really feel that way about him in another life, one where they weren’t brothers.

The way Dean’s voice had dipped into his lowest range on the word _pretty_ , made Sam’s head swim, and he didn’t know how to hide what he was feeling anymore.  It made him angry and so tired of fighting his desires for Dean.  He reached his limit of tolerance because if Dean said one more thing, Sam was certain he was going to lose his fight and turn around and kiss his brother the way he had longed to do for the past decade. 

His hands shook at his sides, he couldn’t take that chance.  Sam’s already raw fear of losing his brother snapped like a too taught piano wire.  He turned on Dean and said, “Dude enough.  I know it’s been a while since you got laid, but back off.”

Sam’s brows wrinkled further in dismay and panic.  “I don’t want you humping my leg like your black dog theory.  In case you didn’t notice it wasn’t just me he was looking at.  It was both of us.  People are always assuming we are gay. Maybe you should stop acting like it if you don’t want that assumption to keep happening.”

Dean’s mood dropped into a bottomless pit.  He had been wrong.  He thought he had read all the signs, the blushing, the leaning into his touch, but Sam’s anger made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want Dean in the slightest.  Not only that but in his reckless need to know, Dean was being much too obvious.  He couldn’t afford for Sam to think this wasn’t just teasing.  He had gone too far.  He had to fix this before it was too late, before Sam decided Dean wanted him in a way no brother should.  That would be disastrous.  Dean had to regroup.  Back to business as usual, hide his feelings, suppress, swallow all that back down.  _He could do this, had done it for years._   His heart broke.

He put on a bright smile and said, “Awe Sammy, is your manhood feeling challenged?”  And walked off down the stairs ahead of Sam, trying not to hyperventilate. 

They drove to Animal Protection to find out any reports about rogue dogs that might have caused the victim to claim he had seen a black dog.  Sam waited in the car while Dean went in alone.  Sam had to try to calm down.  He couldn’t believe he had gone off on Dean that way. 

He berated himself and didn’t know what to do.  He had to get his shit together.  The constant longing he felt for Dean mixed with the overwhelming fear of losing him was wearing him thin.  He had no clue what to do about it, but snapping at his brother when he was just being the same old goofy Dean wasn’t the right way to handle anything.

Sam turned his mind from the melancholy place it had wandered to as soon as he saw Dean walking back to the car.  He took in how good his brother looked in his suit and sighed, why did his brother have to be the most beautiful man alive?

Sam asked Dean, “So?” as he climbed into the car.  Hoping that something interesting about the case would focus his mind and help him out of the dark cloud he couldn’t seem to escape from today.

Dean’s answer did nothing to clear the storms away.  He began to recite every fact he had learned about the secretary he had just spoken to, who was undoubtedly pretty and enjoyed Dean’s attention ever so much, giving him way more details about herself than necessary, including the fact that her breasts were real.

Sam’s dismay sunk heavier into his chest.

He tried desperately to focus on the case and on the information about the nineteen calls to animal control over the last week that had any resemblance to a black dog, or their case.

They went door to door following up, both brothers more quiet than usual in between interviews.  They didn’t find much to help them figure out what might be going on until they went to interview a doctor and found out she was gone, and her maid wasn’t sure when she would be back.  The maid had never actually seen the dog the doctor had complained about, and after further investigation the brothers found out that there were a number of coincidences between the dead architect and the missing doctor.  They had both had immense success over the last ten years time, and they had both been in someplace, called Lloyd’s Bar, back in 1996.

They pulled up across the street from Lloyd’s which happened to be outside of town in a pretty deserted area.  As they were walking towards the place, Dean became distracted by the bright yellow flowers growing on all four corners of the area where the two gravel roads in front and to the side of the bar crossed.  He called Sam’s attention to them, and they discussed the fact that the flowers were called Yarrow and were used for summoning rituals.  That mixed with the fact that they just happened to be at a crossroads, and two people who had been there just happened to become overnight successes ten years ago, dinged all the bells the boys knew about people making deals with a demon.  They dug up the center of the area just to find out if their idea was correct.

While Dean shoveled gravel, Sam kept watch to make sure no one noticed.  He marveled at his brother.  People always underestimated how smart Dean was, but he had an amazing mind, just as wonderful as his incredible body.  But because he downplayed it, people never really got to know that side of him.  Sam even sometimes forgot just how brilliant Dean could be because of how much he played up the goofier side of his personality.  But he was really impressive at putting pieces of information together, and it was times like this that it stole Sam’s breath away when he did it.

It only took a few minutes before Dean hit something metal in the gravel.  He pulled it out and opened the tin box up to discover a bunch of small bones, and a bottle of what looked to be graveyard dirt.  They talked it over, and were sure that these people had made a pact with a demon and now the demon was using hellhounds to collect payment for services rendered.

Sam asked Dean if he thought this was like the Robert Johnson legend.  Dean told him yeah but reminded him that that wasn’t a legend.  That you could tell by his music that it was real.  Sam gave him blank face and Dean was shocked that Sam didn’t know the man’s music.  He gave Sam the short version of the history about all the occult references in the man’s music.

Sam took it all in and realized that they needed to find out if anyone else made the same deal, so they could try to help them.  Dean’s attitude turned dark and angry.  He snapped at his brother, telling Sam that he didn’t think they should have to clean up these people’s messes.

Sam’s brow furrowed as he watched Dean angrily insist these people weren’t squeaky clean.  He went on to say that nobody put a gun to their head and made them make these deals.

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  Dean was the one who always insisted on fighting the fight no matter what.  Taking care of civilians against any and all supernatural foes was their reason for doing what they do, and demons were the worst of the worst.  So it boggled Sam’s brain that his brother was acting this way.

His brother kept looking down at the ground after each negative statement, like he couldn’t stand to meet Sam’s eye.  Sam asked incredulously, “So, what, we should just leave them to die?”

Dean’s tone was harshly defensive, when he stated, “Somebody goes over Niagra in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save them?”

Dean was looking at Sam now, his attitude all but daring Sam to say something to the contrary,

All Sam managed was a confused, somewhat hurt, “Dean…”

Dean’s head dropped as he stared hard at the ground sadly.  He was quiet for a couple of beats, before he swallowed hard.  Unable to withstand Sam’s silent judgment he huffily said, “All right,” his lips pulled up in a quick bitter, closed lipped smile, eyeing the ground but swallowing down his anger in the self deprecating way that he specialized in.  His voice dropped the harsh tone and came out flat when he adds, “fine.”

Dean put his feelings aside as best he could and launched into the case, talking it out as he normally would, working out the logic of how a person would go about calling the demon and coming up with the fact that they would need to put their own photo into the spell.  So he pulled out the old black and white image left in the tin and told Sam he would go in to the bar and ask if anyone knew who the guy might be, adding snarkily at the end a quip about if he was still alive. 

He needed to get away from Sam, needed to calm down.  The anger and fury that had stirred up threatening to boil was still bubbling just under the surface and he didn’t want to mess things up with Sam anymore than he already had today.

Sam didn’t turn to follow his brother, although his head swiveled in his direction like a flower following the trajectory of the sun, until Dean was out of his vision.  His heart was heavy.  His brother had been so weird all day, and now this confusing cold attitude towards the people who had made demon deals.  He felt off kilter and sad and lost.  He wanted to ask Dean what was up, but something deep down inside made him afraid to do so.  His own raw feelings from the last month of almost losing Dean over and over had him on edge, not to mention how scared he was about Dean going to prison. 

He needed to talk things out with Dean, he wanted Dean to make him feel better like he always had when he was a kid.  But they weren’t kids anymore and he longed for his brother in a way that just wasn’t right.  So he just sat and stewed in his own unhappy worry.

When Dean came back with news about who the guy was, they made quick work of finding his address.  The brothers climbed the stairs to George Darrow’s apartment .  The people at the bar had said he had been quite the regular there for a while.  Dean knew he had showed too much emotion earlier and tried to play things more upbeat as he kidded about maybe the guy had asked for a room full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis.  Sam gave a tired put upon sigh and shook his head.

Dean hoped that he had done enough talking about women to camouflage how royally he had screwed up earlier by thinking Sam wanted him too. 

He tried not to let that or the anger from earlier about people selling their souls to demons get in his mind again, by focusing on the weird dust that looked like pepper under Darrow’s door.

Dean and Sam were bent down looking at the strange row spread all across the doorway discussing what it might be when the door in question opened.   George Darrow peered out at them suspiciously and told them he didn’t want to buy anything.  Dean snidely told him that usually when someone wanted to keep evil out they reached for the salt not the pepper.  It spooked the older gentlemen but he denied knowing what Dean was talking about.  So Dean casually pulled out the man’s old picture and showed it to him, and asked him coolly, “Tell me, you seen that hellhound yet?”

Dean’s face looked stony and sharp, and he bit down hard causing his jaw to bulge ever so slightly, from trying to hold back all the other snarky remarks he felt like saying.

Sam swallowed back the concern his brother’s unusually cold demeanor was firing through his body and tried a softer more compassionate tone, telling the man they just wanted to help, asking him sincerely to just give them five minutes of his time.

Once he let them in his place, the boys looked around at a room chocked full of paintings and all the trappings of an art studio, as George went straight over to the side and got a drink.  Sam asked him what the stuff was guarding his door and he turned and said, “Goofer Dust.”

Then he laughed and in a bitter tone accused the boys of only thinking they knew stuff if they didn’t know anything about Goofer Dust.

He threw a small bag of it at Dean, and without missing a beat, Dean caught it out of the air with his left hand and said darkly, “Well, we know a little about a lot of things.”

He examined the pouch quickly and looked up at the man, lowering his tone into an almost growl of challenge as he finished, “Just enough to make us dangerous.”

Sam’s body shivered without his consent as Dean’s voice sent chills up his spine.

He tried to act normal as he asked the older man, what the stuff was.  George seemed oblivious to Sam’s plight which calmed Sam’s nerves somewhat as the older man explained that it was hoodoo that his grandma had taught him.  That it was used to keep out demons.

George told them to keep what was in the bag so maybe it would do them some good.

Sam told the man that they knew he was in trouble, and Dean added snidely that it was trouble Darrow had gotten himself into.  Dean again refused to look at Sam as he said it but he could feel Sam’s glare at him all the same.  Sam went on to tell the older gentleman that is wasn’t hopeless, that there must be something they could do to help.

The man refused, telling Sam that sometimes a man makes his bed and then just has to lie down in it.  He explained that he had asked for talent for painting but should have gone for fame. Saying it wasn’t worth it at all.  He said the worst thing that happened once he called the demon, was that it had stayed at Lloyd’s for a week making deals.  He hadn’t counted on that.  He had tried to warn people but no one would listen to him thinking that he was just a drunk.

The boys asked who the others were and there was no one he knew other than the people in the paper, and then he remembered one last person, a nice guy named Evan Hudson, but he didn’t know what he had asked for. 

He told then that it didn’t matter though cause he was done for.  That he had called the demon and brought it on himself, and all the other people too.  He knew he was going to hell, he just wanted a few more days to finish his last painting before it happened. 

Sam kept trying to convince him to let them help him, but he refused, finally yelling at them to get out because he had work to do. The brothers looked at each other and knew there was nothing more they could do if the man refused to let them help him.  They turned and walked slowly out his front door.

They found the address for the other man, Evan Hudson, that George mentioned and went to see if they could get to him before it was too late.  He slammed the door in their faces out of fear when Dean asked him about Lloyd’s.  Dean kicked in the front door, but Sam managed to stop him from kicking in the inner door they followed the man to.  It was open and Sam talked Evan into giving them a chance to try to help him.

Dean’s resentment and negative attitude towards the people who had sold their souls wasn’t any better with Evan as he put a heavy dose of snark into his voice when he asked him what he had traded for.

So when the man explained that his wife had been dying of cancer, a cold heavy stone sunk deep within Dean’s torso, making him feel ill and even more angry.  Dean took that anger and sharpened it into a razor’s edge before plunging it into Evan by accusing him of making the deal so that he wouldn’t have to live without her, of selfishly making her be the one stuck living without him.  He continued to push the doomed man, asking him what she would do if his wife knew her life had cost Evan his soul. 

Hearing the pain in Dean’s voice hurt Sam to his core, but it wasn’t right for Dean to take his own pain out on Evan. Sam stepped to his brother and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder telling him, “That’s enough.”

He told Evan to stay where he was and that they would figure something out, before following Dean out into the hall.  He asked his brother if he was alright, knowing he probably wouldn’t get the truth.

Dean deflected and told Sam he had an idea but as soon as Dean explained he wanted Sam to use the hoodoo powder to buy some time so that Dean could go to the crossroads and summon the demon himself to trap it and exorcise it Sam knew he had to stop his brother.  Dean told him he wasn’t allowed to say no unless he had a better idea but Sam kept saying no and to forget it in spite of Dean’s laying out a logical argument.

Sam flat out told Dean that he wasn’t allowing him to summon that demon and when Dean asked why not, Sam told him adamantly that he didn’t like where his head was at.  Dean’s face furrowed up in confusion and he asked his younger brother what he was talking about.  Sam told Dean he had been on edge ever since they found the crossroads and went on to inform him that he knew why.

That was too close for comfort for Dean who sidestepped away from Sam and walked towards the front door.  Before he could escape Sam stopped him with one word, “Dad.”

Dean halted his movement, but refused to look behind him, unable to acknowledge his brother or the potential that he might be right, but Sam continued to speak to his back as he explained it all out. “You think maybe dad made one of these deals, huh?”

Dean turned then and faced Sam.  This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now, but he knew Sam well enough to know that once he had a bee in his bonnet he wouldn’t let it go. 

Sam’s voice got softer once Dean was facing him.  He confessed, hoping it was the best way to get Dean to open up, “Hell, I’ve been thinking it.”

Sam watched his brother, his heart aching for him, for the pain this had to be causing Dean, who so eagerly carried the weight of all that was wrong with the world on his own shoulders under the best of circumstances, but this, this thing with Dad’s death, it had haunted Dean since it had happened.  So Sam tried to be gentle with Dean, his voice calm but breathy when he coaxed, “I’m sure you’ve been thinking it, too.” 

Sam tried to keep his face open and not accusatory as he waited for Dean’s response.

Dean searched Sam’s face, his mouth was dry and he had to swallow hard before he answered with a question of his own.  “It fits, doesn’t it?

His tone tried for neutral, blasé even, as he began, “I’m alive, dad’s dead. Yellow eyed demon was involved.”

Sam fought hard to keep his face from showing all the emotions churning around inside.  He wanted to grab Dean, to shake him and tell him again how glad, how thankful he was that Dean was here, even if it cost their father everything. He struggled to hide all that behind a calm open façade, to keep Dean talking.  The slow movement of his Adam’s apple betrayed his neutral demeanor by showing his need to swallow hard, as his body shook from the internal fight going on within.

Dean’s voice dropped lower, but still hid behind a mask of bravado, “What if he did?  What if he struck a deal?”

Dean’s inflection became the sad gravelly whisper it got when he was hurting and fighting to hold the pain back, “My life for his soul.” 

Sam stared silently at Dean, struggling over how to sooth his brother without saying all the things he wants to say.  He couldn’t say most of what his heart wanted, because it would be a clear confession of his desperate love for Dean, which would break his world apart.  So he grasped for anything to say to make his brother feel better that wouldn’t in any way point to how wrong Sam was for loving Dean too much.

Before he could come up with anything at all, Evan yelled out to them saying he could hear the hellhound outside.

Dean snapped back into case mode telling Sam to just keep Evan alive, before turning and charging out the front.  Sam took two steps to follow, calling after him with, “Dean…” knowing it was useless, even before his brother looked back over his shoulder and with an insistent point of his finger in Evan’s direction yelled back, “Go.”

Sam’s heart was heavy.  He knew Dean was completely capable of doing exactly what he planned, setting a trap, exorcizing the demon, buying them more time to figure out what to do for Evan.  But Dean was all kinds of screwed up over their Dad’s death.  And now he was going out to a crossroad’s demon with all that baggage churned up inside him.  Sam didn’t know what Dean might do, and he was petrified to find out.  He knew he couldn’t leave Evan. The whole point was to help this guy, but what if Dean made a trade.  What if Dean decided at the last minute, instead of trapping the demon he would use it to bring John back?

Sam didn’t want to even think about it.  But he knew Dean had.  It was exactly the kind of move Dean would make and so he stood in Evan’s study surrounded by goofer dust, with an ever increasingly panicking Evan in the middle of another tighter circle of the stuff, paralyzed by the fear he might never see his brother again.

_What if the conversation in the hallway was the last thing he ever got to say to Dean?  What if Dean was gone already and the next person he sees was John walking in the door?_   Sam felt like his bowels were close to vacating, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this scared.  He was so stupid to let Dean walk away like that.  He should have said something, anything. 

 

 

Dean had done all the preparation he could do before calling the demon. It didn’t take long once she appeared before the pretty young brunette was bragging, saying that his father had, in fact, made a demon deal. 

He tried not to let it faze him, tried to keep his mind on task, but hearing the confirmation of what his father had done, to save him from death, stabbed at his heart and made it hard to breathe.  He refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing his shock, hiding behind his mask of self assured swagger as he opened his car door which he had convinced her to do their deal inside of.  She began to get in, only to stop angrily when she saw the devil’s trap marked clearly under the car.

 

 

Evan told Sam the thing was right outside the study doors and Sam stepped into the small circle as the doors began to bang and shake, proving the man right.

 

 

Dean took a step back from the angry demon and then another, backing all the way up against the wooden post holding up the nearby water tower as she threatened to tear Dean limb from limb. He told her to take her best shot but she paused, saying she wouldn’t do that.  He asked her why, almost hoping she would in fact do that because he couldn’t stop the pain that had been torturing him, not just about his father.  That was bad enough, but he had known something like this was what had happened, had been living with that guilt since the day his dad died.  It was like a red hot ache he had grown used to. 

The more intense hole in his heart, at the moment, was the damage his hope had caused him.  The tender shoots that had only just begun to grow from the thought that maybe Sam might actually love him like he so dangerously longed for his brother.  They had been pulled out by the roots when it became obvious that Sam wanted nothing to do with Dean in that way.  That somehow it had all been a horrible misinterpretation on his part, and now what had once been the familiar dull consistent ache he had grown up with since puberty, violently returning caught him off guard. What had been a quiet constant painful companion he had long since gotten used to, was nothing compared to what allowing himself to start to believe had done. 

Now he had a raw bleeding emptiness in his heart where hope was suddenly achingly absent.  It made him rashly wish for her to kill him, to put him out of this new fresh intense misery.

He was shocked when the demon confessed that his misery was the whole point.  That it was too much fun to watch him, when he knew that his daddy had died for him, how John sold his soul.  She was right, it did stab at Dean, weighed him down on his already too heavily guilt ridden shoulders.  He tried to show just enough of it to get her to buy what he was selling, but it wasn’t hard.  She was right about what she was saying, that many times his first thought when he woke up was, “I can’t do this anymore,” and it was true that he was lit up inside right now with pain. 

She was trying to turn the knife more in his heart, but she evidently couldn’t see his soul clearly.  Only able to read the edges because she hadn’t said one thing about his true torment, the true reason his soul was so dark, she didn’t know about him loving Sam.  That was the kerosene that had his fire of guilt and pain burning so brightly.

Yes he felt all the things she was accusing him of over his father.  But that pain paled in comparison to the loss of what he had only just started to believe was possible with Sam.  So he played his part, let his pain from what John had done, show through his face, slump his shoulders the way it truly did.  He didn’t hide any of it, but tried to act like he was struggling to do just that.

She backed him up against the wood, saying he loved his dad so much, and it was all his fault that his dad had sold his soul.   Dean knew all that to be true.  She teased him, saying that he had blown it, that he could have asked her to bring his father back. 

He knew he had to play this just right, he waited a few moments while she walked away from him, and then he moved under the water tower, and put all the self doubt and uncertainty he actually felt into his voice to draw her back to him, by calling out, “Hold on.”

If he was being honest, he was tempted.  He did feel his father should have let him die, but it was John’s choice.  He asked her if she could actually bring him back.  She told him she could, that he could have had ten long years with him, and that Dean should have been dead right now anyway, so the extra years would be a bonus allowing the family to all be together again.  She walked over to him under the water tower, just as he had planned.  He walked slowly away from her and turned just as he had cleared the area of the devil’s trap he had scrawled in the wood above where she stood now.

It was clear the moment the demon realized she was trapped. 

He told her smugly to let Evan go and he would let her go.  She told him she couldn’t and he said it was her last chance.  He pulled out his father’s journal with the exorcism detailed inside and held up the rosary.  He began the ritual.

 

 

Sam and Evan had to make a break for it when the goofer dust circle was broken by the wind the demon’s anger was causing to blow and swirl around the room.  Sam barricaded them both in a laundry room down the hall, using his own large frame to hold the door closed as the invisible beasts threw themselves against the other side.

Sam realized Dean must have succeeded as the door fell suddenly quiet.  But that only made Sam’s heart beat more erratically.  Sam knew Dean must have trapped the demon in order for it to bargain Evan’s deal away for its own freedom.  _But once it was released, did Dean do anything else?_   _Would his brother come back through the door, or had Dean traded his own life for his father’s?_   Sam was desperate to know the answer, but petrified to find out it wasn’t the answer he was hoping for.  He didn’t know what he would do if Dean was gone. _Who was he kidding?_   He would head right back to that crossroads and follow in his big brother’s footsteps.  At least that was what his pounding heart convinced him was the quick and dirty plan for now.

 

 

Dean thought he was fine, once the demon surprised him and kissed him explaining that was the way contracts were sealed, he was going to exorcise her anyway.  But then she told him that if he reneged on the deal and sent her to hell, once she crawled back out, the first thing she would do would be to end Evan Hudson.  Dean climbed up and pulled one of the boards free breaking the trap.

The demon began to taunt him almost immediately, telling him he would have never made that deal and would have made one for his dad instead if he knew the way his dad was being tortured in hell. 

She started to describe it vividly twisting Dean just the right way, but as soon as Dean made a move in her direction, saying he would send her back to hell, black smoke flew from the woman’s mouth and the demon took off to parts unknown.

As he stared at the poor woman left behind, crouched scared and confused in the dirt, Dean realized just how masterful the demon was at her job.  No wonder she had gotten so many people to sell their souls in just a week at Lloyd's.  She knew exactly what to say to Dean Winchester to make him hesitate just enough.  He might not have been truly tempted by the deal right at that moment, but he carried it with him, allowed the thought to eat at him.

 

 

Sam pulled out his phone and, with shaking fingers, called Dean. He held his breath the entire time the phone rang and rang and he wasn’t even sure he took a breath once Dean answered on the other end.  He tried not to show how panicked he was, didn’t want to give his brother any ideas for the future in case he hadn’t already been thinking of asking to trade his own life for their father’s. 

He asked Dean what had happened, but Dean was being cagey, even more so than normal.  Dean’s voice sounded off but his brother wouldn’t explain anything over the phone, just assured Sam he would be there to pick him up soon. It did nothing to alleviate Sam’s worry, but at least his brother was on his way back to him, for now. 

It wasn’t until they were finally on the road, back where Dean felt safest in the world, with his hands on Baby’s steering wheel that he was calm enough to outline to Sam what the demon had said about John being tortured.  He had managed to carry the weight of it alone, until Sam’s questioning him in the darkened car, by his side, got to be too much.  It overwhelmed him into confessing what he had learned from the demon about what John was going through because of him.  Dean looked to Sam for absolution, the way he always did, but once Sam offered it, he found he couldn’t take it.

Sam tried to mitigate the damage by assuring Dean that the demon was lying.  But Dean called him on the obvious lack of conviction in his voice. 

Sam didn’t want to think about their dad being tortured like that, but he was still so relieved about Dean being there, alive and beside him, that the fear over their dad’s torment couldn’t really breech the euphoric heady cloud he was floating on.  He was sad for their dad, and sadder still for Dean having yet one more thousand pound weight to laden onto his guilt ridden soul. That was really what was making it hard for Sam to look at Dean.  He hated to feel so very powerless in the face of Dean’s own self destructive belief that he had to shoulder all this on his own. 

Sam listened quietly to Dean’s whispering voice as it became more gravelly, more broken, by the mile as he spoke about their father.  Knowing what John did for Dean, instead of just suspecting it, was eating away at Dean from the inside and Sam knew it was important for Dean to talk it out.  It was unusual that his brother was saying as much as he currently was sharing so Sam tried to just bear witness and not talk him out of it, which he knew was probably impossible anyway. 

Sam finally did break his silence though when Dean started doubting John’s legacy.  Thinking that his last act of making a deal with the yellow eyed demon for Dean’s sake somehow nullified John’s hunting it all those years.  If Dean kept down this train of thought, Sam was scared of where this nihilistic path might take him.

He told Dean that saving Evan Hudson, and all the other people they had helped since John’s death was their dad’s legacy, not the deal.  That by saving Dean, he had ensured that the brothers would go on, would continue that legacy of saving people, hunting things, doing that which John had dedicated his life to.

Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper when he said, “So we gotta keep going.  For him.”

Dean wouldn’t look at his brother.  His heart was so heavy and broken by the news that John had indeed sacrificed himself for Dean.  But darker still, was Dean’s sense of loss, of the hope he had cradled about Sam loving him, the same dark way Dean loved Sam.  He was in mourning and he couldn’t share that with Sam which made it all the harder.  So he watched the road, unable to lay his eyes on what he so desperately wanted to fill his vision. 

Sam’s stomach fluttered.  He needed to ask Dean for the truth.  He was scared for the answer though.  He couldn’t lose Dean.  He just couldn’t.  And he had to know if Dean had truly thought about making a deal.  If he had, Sam was afraid that that potential might haunt Dean until he finally broke down and sought out another crossroads.  He had to stop that from happening at any cost.  Even at the danger to his own heart.

Sam was so scared but he whispered, “Hey Dean?”

His brother’s response was instantaneous, “Yeah?”

Sam stuttered through asking him about the demon, making more of a statement than a question that it had all been a trick, wanting it to desperately be true, wanting Dean to calm his beating heart by assuring him that he hadn’t truly considered making the deal.  The halting way it came out, the vulnerability he was laying at Dean’s feet, he was begging his brother to take it all away.

Dean wasn’t in a comforting mood, still refusing to look at his younger brother even for a minute.  If he had, he would have seen the fear in Sam’s eyes, the uncertainty and dread that made him look so much younger than his true age, more like the tiny kid that had come to Dean so often, begging him to not let the monsters get him.

Dean reached over and cranked up the knob on the radio.  Sam knew what the change in music meant as surely as if his brother had confessed the entire thing to him verbally.  Panic swelled in Sam’s chest, making his breathing hard to manage.  His eyes began to tear up and he was not entirely sure he could hold himself together.

By the stubborn jut of Dean’s jaw and his refusal to even look in his brother’s direction, Sam he could tell Dean would stonewall any attempts to speak further on the subject. He wanted to tell Dean he loved him, beg him not to sacrifice his soul for their father’s.    But he was paralyzed.  He stared quietly off into the night as the tears began to flow down his trembling cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> I broke my own heart with this one you guys. I hate that we have now swerved back away from what was heating up to be the boys getting closer to being together. It was where they led me, so I had to follow, but I can't say I am not disappointed. I feel like I am riding a bucking bronco just barely hanging on, having no idea where things are going or when we will get bucked back into a yummy direction, but I have faith in the boys that they will get there. Lots of love and heartache in this season so I will just have to hang on with all of you and see where these men take us.
> 
> Some of the passages in this felt a little unwieldy and too messy even for my chaotic style of writing. I hope it didn't take away from your enjoyment of the story. The sheer amount of angst and pain Dean Winchester can emote because of Jensen's brilliance is overwhelming sometimes and if I let myself, I get so lost in wallowing in it and that can make for difficult overwordy writing. I apologize for any mess I left behind. 
> 
> I can never state enough how amazing both Jensen and Jared are at playing such deep pain riddled beautiful characters that can have entire conversations by looks and facial movements. I am forever in awe of them both.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me and for the kudos and comments. You feed my soul more than you will ever know.
> 
> If you ever feel like it, come follow me on Tumblr at my handle [alliehallowseve](https://alliehallowseve.tumblr.com/)


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